


Ronon Goes on a Rampage

by ObsessiveExplosion



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Brainwashing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, John Sheppard Whump, Suspense, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessiveExplosion/pseuds/ObsessiveExplosion
Summary: When Ronon, John, and Rodney are exploring an Ancient Lab, Ronon accidentally inhales a substance that causes him to think John is his enemy. Rodney and a badly-injured John must find Ronon before it's too late.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

"Sheppard, look at this," Rodney shouted from the opposite end of the room.

"Wowwww. Very cool."

"You aren't even looking." Rodney's voice rose higher in indignation, and John snickered and turned around to see whatever it was Rodney had discovered now.

John, Rodney, and Ronon were exploring a long-abandoned Ancient lab, located on an uninhabited planet. As far as John could tell, there was no pressing reason for the exploration apart from satisfying Rodney's curiosity. Still, exploring an Ancient lab that was at best, full of exciting weapons, and at worst empty, and either way it sounded far more fun than catching up on paperwork. Anything sounded far more fun than that. It hadn't been difficult for Rodney to convince John to mount an expedition. Teyla hadn't joined them, as she was visiting the Athosians, but Ronon had come along as well.

For the past two hours, Rodney had been wandering around the lab exclaiming loudly every time he made a new discovery. Some of the highlights so far had included a case of cool Ancient drugs to take back to Carson, including something that seemed like an Ancient-style stimulant and a fancy fever reducer, an older model of the life signs detector they carried, and what appeared to be a never-ending supply of beige fabrics. Some of the discoveries were more interesting than others.

"What is it now?" Ronon asked, leaning back against a lab table.

"An older version of a stunner," Rodney said enthusiastically. "I wonder if it still works?"

Rodney began muttering, and John nodded. That was his cue to tune out. Every so often, he gave a small "hmm" of acknowledgement, which seemed to be enough to keep Rodney going.

Beside him, Ronon turned away and began fiddling with something on the lab table. It looked kind of like a microscope, with two scopes leading into some kind of box. Ronon leaned down, peering into the box. He reached a hand in, apparently trying to jimmy the lid off and get a better look.

Almost instantly, there was a puff of some kind of gas, enveloping Ronon's nose and mouth. He staggered backwards, coughing, until he collided with another lab table and collapsed heavily onto it.

John headed to him instantly, and from the other side of the room Rodney was starting towards them as well.

"You okay, big guy?" John asked as he got nearer.

Ronon looked up, and his pupils were dilated almost to the edges of his eyes. John froze.

"Buddy?"

"What's wrong?" Rodney asked, quickening his pace.

"Rodney, _stop_ ," John said sharply. Rodney faltered to a halt as Ronon's head began to turn towards him.

"Ronon." John slipped his hand into his tac vest, gripping the handle of his stunner. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to use it, but there was something about the way Ronon was standing that John didn't like. It was the same way he looked around Wraith.

Ronon didn't say anything. He just slowly advanced towards John, eyes hidden in shadow.

"Ronon?" John asked nervously, pulling out his stunner but not aiming it yet. "Hey, just stop walking, alright? We just...we need to figure out what happened to you…."

John was starting to get a little freaked out. He had no idea what was wrong with Ronon, but it was clear that something was. His friend wouldn't just...act like this. Whatever it was that he had just inhaled had done _something_ to him, and John needed to figure out what it was and _stop it_ before someone got seriously hurt.

"Ronon," John said sharply. "Stop."

Ronon did not stop. John snapped the stunner up and aimed it squarely at Ronon's chest.

That did make Ronon stop. He was only about two or three feet from John now, but John couldn't get any sort of read on his expression.

"Don't make me use this," John said.

In one smooth motion, Ronon stepped out of John's line of fire and shoved the stunner aside with the back of his hand. John didn't even have time to _think_ about reacting when Ronon's fingers were closing around his wrist. His arm was yanked straight out, and then Ronon was somehow behind him, still in full control of John's right arm. Ronon thrust his elbow into John's shoulder, and John felt a devastating pop accompanied by a bolt of pain. Ronon slid his hand to the stunner and ripped it free, so quickly that John felt the movement snap his trigger finger.

John had barely had time to process that this attack was actually _happening_ when Ronon was whirling the other direction. The stunner slammed into the back of John's head, and John's vision instantly went grey and fuzzy. His knees buckled immediately, and Ronon let him slide to the floor.

John's whole body was afire with pain. The sickening throb in his arm intertwined with the blinding ache mounting in his head, and the two together seemed to branch out through each and every nerve ending in his body.

John blinked the stars away from his vision, but that just made everything blurry and cloudy. Still, he tried to rise, gasping as he shifted his injured arm.

Before he managed to clear his vision, before he even managed to do more than get to his knees, Ronon's hands were closing around his injured shoulder and John's world exploded in a starburst of pain again. John felt himself tilt, then fall. He looked back, getting a confused jumble of Ronon, of falling, of Rodney, then of nothing.

* * *

Rodney had stood frozen throughout the whole attack. He'd watched as Ronon disarmed John, as he'd hit him in the back of the head with the stunner, as John had crumpled to the ground, as Ronon had seized John and thrown him off the _flight of stairs_. Rodney had watched as John tumbled like a rag doll down to the landing, falling in a jumble of uncoordinated limbs. He'd watched as Ronon had bounded down the stairs after him and quickly stripped John's limp body of the tac vest and the P90 clipped to it, and he'd watched as Ronon had left the lab at a dead run.

The whole thing had taken about a minute. Rodney still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, why Ronon - who clearly wasn't Ronon anymore - had attacked.

But that didn't matter, not when John was lying facedown, halfway down a flight of stairs. Oh god, was he even….

Rodney snapped out of his frozen horror and clattered down the stairs to John, skidding to a stop beside his friend's body. Holding his breath, he reached towards John's neck, and after a few seconds let the breath rush out in a sigh of relief. John was still breathing.

Carefully, Rodney turned John over, placing his hand behind John's head to stop it from knocking against the floor. When he removed his hand, it came away bloody.

"Sheppard," Rodney said urgently, fixated by the blood staining his fingers. " _John._ "

John didn't respond. Rodney closed his eyes, took three deep breaths, and continued examining his best friend for injuries.

There were a lot of them. John's right arm looked...wrong, oddly flat, as though it weren't attached to him anymore. His finger was visibly broken, already purple and swelling. He was covered with a litany of small cuts and bruises. And there was, of course, the head wound. Rodney had no sense of how bad that was, and he didn't think he'd really be able to get a read on it until John woke up. But he had seen Ronon hit John with the gun, and he didn't see how John could have escaped a concussion. The bleeding at the base of John's skull...he didn't think it was a problem in and of itself, it wasn't like John was bleeding out or anything, but it was a testament to how hard he had been hit.

Those were just the injuries that Rodney could see. He knew there was untold damage beneath the surface of John's skin, and he had a horrible image of internal bleeding and punctured lungs.

"Sheppard," Rodney said again. "I need you to...wake up."

Rodney had not expected that to work in the slightest, and was just starting to resign himself to having to come up with a plan _completely alone,_ when John's eyes slitted open. For a second, he was sure that he had imagined it; the glassy slits of John's eyes there and gone so fast it didn't seem real. But then John moaned slightly, and started to squirm, and it was just a matter of waiting patiently until John gathered up enough strength to open his eyes again.

"Wh't happened?" he muttered, immediately reaching up with his uninjured arm to try to touch the back of his head.

"Hey," Rodney said quickly. "Don't touch that."

John frowned.

"Does it hurt?"

"Of course," he said, his voice thankfully a little stronger.

"Are you nauseous?"

John shrugged a little, not a firm yes or no. "Where's Ronon?"

So he remembered what had happened, that was good, although he still had a probable concussion. Rodney could only hope that it wasn't too bad - he could see that John's pupils were even, at least, although he didn't have any way to test how well they would react to light.

"Ronon ran off," Rodney said. "I don't know where he is. I don't...did you see what happened to him?"

John nodded weakly, then looked like he regretted it. "He...there was some dust in a box. It must have been...I dunno, an experiment or something. As soon as he inhaled it, he...it was like he didn't even recognize me."

"He attacked you for no reason? That's not like him."

John tried to shrug, but the movement jostled his shoulder and he sucked in a sharp, pained breath. "I don't think it was really Ronon anymore."

That seemed correct. Rodney couldn't, under any circumstances, imagine Ronon intentionally visiting the brutality he'd just seen on _John._ He'd seen Ronon inches away from tearing apart Wraith, or any of their other numerous enemies, but he'd never hurt one of them, not like that.

Rodney shivered, unable to get the image of Ronon hurling John down the stairs out of his mind. He wasn't sure if he ever would.

His attention was snapped back by a groan from John. Rodney looked down to find John struggling to push himself upright, supporting all of his weight on his uninjured arm.

"God, Sheppard," Rodney said, quickly reaching out and steadying John. "Maybe you shouldn't try to move just yet."

"No...choice," John grunted, his breath coming in harsh pants. He closed his eyes, and Rodney considered lowering him back to the floor until he looked a bit steadier.

"Why not?" Rodney asked. "We'll wait until you have your breath back, we can get to the jumper, and we'll send some Marines with stunners after Ronon. Beckett should have a look at you."

John slitted his eyes back open again, giving Rodney his trademark "yeah, duh" look. Rodney colored slightly.

"It's a good plan," he muttered.

John shook his head, looking a bit sick. "Ronon...took my tac vest. Jumper remote's...in the pocket."

Rodney stared at him blankly for a good five seconds before he realized what John was saying.

"So we can't get back into the jumper."

"Nope," John answered, closing his eyes again.

"Until we get the remote from crazy not-Ronon. Who just almost killed you. In the woods."

"Yep."

Rodney's hands started to shake. "Great."

* * *

John tried to focus on anything besides the pain. The lab, the plan, even Rodney's panicked voice rising higher and higher. Still, it was getting more difficult by the moment.

"Help me up," John said reluctantly. Every time he moved, pain wrapped around his chest and through his shoulder, so dizzyingly awful it made him nauseous. He suspected that he'd managed to break his collarbone in the fall, as well as a few ribs.

"Is your shoulder…," Rodney sucked in a sharp, somewhat panicked breath, "supposed to look like that?"

John used his less injured arm to feel his right shoulder, which was misshapen and painful to the touch. He had dislocated his shoulder a few times before - the right one was a little weaker. He wasn't exactly sure what it looked like to Rodney, but he was certain that it did not look the way shoulders were supposed to.

"No," he said, trying his best to keep his voice calm. "It's...the joint's popped out."

He thought the word "dislocated" might scare Rodney.

Rodney's eyes widened, and John saw him swallow visibly. "That...doesn't sound good."

John braced himself slightly. "I'm going to need you to put it back in."

Rodney was already shaking his head. "No, nope. Sheppard, come on. That does not...I don't think I'll be able to do that. I…."

John was dealing with enough already, and he thought panicked Rodney might set him over the edge. He gestured with his less injured hand. "Do you see a lot of other options? A lot of other people lining up to help me?"

Rodney closed his eyes softly, and John gave him a moment to collect himself. Finally, he nodded. "You'll be able to tell me what to do, right? I've never done this before."

John nodded. He had put his own shoulder back in once, which was not easy at all. But having an outside person do it wasn't too difficult. It was mostly just about getting the angles right. It wouldn't be particularly comfortable for John, especially considering...everything else, but it should be doable.

John lay down again, stretching his arm out sideways as far as it could go, and talked Rodney through pulling it out straight and then up above his head. John bit his lip to keep from crying out when Rodney accidentally pressed down on his collarbone - definitely broken then. John did his best to keep his face neutral as Rodney maneuvered his arm upward and guided the joint back into the socket. He didn't want to make this any worse for Rodney than it already was, but the pain was enough that by the time Rodney was done John was blinking stars back from his vision.

"Done?" Rodney asked breathlessly. "Is that better?"

John wiggled his shoulder experimentally, it was still excruciatingly painful but seemed to be in good working order.

"Uh huh," John said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. "Okay, help me up."

"Wait, what's our plan?" Rodney asked, the wild look coming back into his eyes. "We...we need some kind of plan, right?"

"Find Ronon. Get to the jumper. Go home," John said shortly, struggling unsuccessfully to sit up. Rodney moved to help him, taking hold of John's uninjured arm and supporting him as he levered himself upright. Carefully, John scooted back to the wall, gritting his teeth as the pain swept over him.

"You look terrible," Rodney told him. "Can you even walk?"

John wasn't entirely sure that he could, but he didn't have much of a choice. "You wanna go after Ronon alone?"

Rodney blanched, looking even more terrified than he had moments before.

"Didn't think so," John said, arranging his injured shoulder in his lap. "I need to strap this down with something, then we can go."

Rodney retrieved some of the fabrics, and John closed his eyes and tried to breathe steadily as Rodney helped him immobilize his shoulder.

"Better?"

John nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and held out his good hand for Rodney to help him up.

By the time John was standing, the pain was so bad he was dizzy. He leaned heavily on Rodney, closing his eyes and waiting for the room to stop spinning.

"Okay," John mumbled, when he felt a little more steady. Letting go of Rodney, he straightened up and took a few shaky steps. His head pounded, his ribs felt like they were stabbing him, and his broken collarbone shot out a shockwave of pain every time his foot hit the ground.

John kept walking, his head swimming, and then suddenly the nausea was spiking. John stopped, closing his eyes and breathing as deeply as he could manage, but his ribs protested and that just made the pain worse.

He didn't realize he was listing to one side until Rodney caught him. John blinked confusedly at Rodney, who had the edgy-but-determined glint in his eyes that meant he was not to be denied.

"Sheppard, you're white as a sheet. You can barely even walk. There is no way that you can go after Ronon."

"Have to," John whispered. He didn't think he could make his voice any louder.

"Not like this," Rodney said sternly. He turned John around and pushed him back towards the wall. "Sit down."

John shook his head. If he sat down, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to get back up again.

"It's either sit down or fall down," Rodney pointed out. Rodney was right, John could feel the room beginning to spin around him again, and he swallowed back the nausea with some difficulty.

"Rodney, I…you can't go after Ronon alone...how will you even find him?"

Rodney didn't answer. John gathered his strength and pressed on. There was no way he was going to let Rodney do that alone, Ronon would tear him apart. That is, if Rodney even managed to locate him.

"It'll...take too long," John said. "'S like you said. I...probably gotta see a doctor."

John eyed Rodney sideways, waiting to see if his attempt to frighten Rodney had worked. Indecision crept back into Rodney's face, and John was quietly triumphant.

"What about that drug?" Rodney asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"What drug?" John whispered, closing his eyes to try to get the pain in his head to abate some.

"The one I found earlier, when we were exploring the lab," Rodney said. "I told you about it. It looks like a...glorified EpiPen. It might be able to get you going."

"I thought you said we shouldn't try it," John said. If he was thinking of the same thing, Rodney had not described it as a glorified EpiPen. He had described it as glorified meth. But John didn't want to think about that, because Rodney was right. It was probably going to be John's best option, the only thing that would get him going long enough to find Ronon.

"Fine," John said. "How do I take it?" He hoped it was nothing he would have to swallow. The headache was making his stomach churn, and unless it had the exact properties of plain water he wasn't sure he would be able to keep it down.

"Um, I can inject it, I think," Rodney said. "Give me a minute, I'm just gonna...go grab it."

John nodded weakly, eyes still closed.

"Stay there," Rodney added unnecessarily.

John thought he might have fallen asleep for a moment, because he felt like he'd barely sucked in a breath before Rodney was shaking his uninjured shoulder, voice high and breathless in his ear. "Sheppard? Sheppad, open your eyes…."

"Did you find it?" John breathed.

"Yeah," Rodney said, holding out a small, nondescript syringe for John's inspection. "There were a couple of doses, which I put in my pocket, but I, uh, think we should start as low as possible." It was unnecessary for him to finish the thought - they should start as low as possible because neither of them, really, had any idea what the injection would do.

John nodded.

"Do you want to inject it yourself, or…."

"I don't want to inject it myself, Rodney," John sighed. He wasn't sure he'd even be able to get his fingers to close over something so small.

Rodney swallowed hard, looking squeamish, but John figured this couldn't possibly be as bad as popping his shoulder back into place.

"Alright," Rodney said softly. "Alright…." He grabbed John's less injured arm and rolled it gently upward, exposing his bare elbow. The syringe slid into John's arm and John closed his eyes, bracing himself for the unknown effects.


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney carefully extracted the syringe from John's arm, grimacing as the needle slid out. He forced himself not to think about sticking a needle into his best friend, especially not one full of an unknown liquid.

"Is it working?" Rodney asked after a few seconds, staring intently at John's face for some sign that the substance was having any kind of effect. If it didn't work, Rodney didn't know what he was going to do. John was right, Rodney's chances of finding and subduing Ronon on his own were laughable. And even if somehow, Rodney managed to pull it off, it would take too long. That was another thing that John was right about. Rodney still couldn't get the idea of internal bleeding or something equally horrible out of his head. If he came back and John was…no. This _had_ to work.

"It's only been a few seconds, McKay," John said, and maybe it was Rodney's imagination but his voice did sound slightly stronger.

"Okay," Rodney muttered. "Fair enough. Just...tell me when it does, okay?"

John nodded and shut his eyes. Rodney watched him, waiting for something to happen. After a few more seconds, John's face tightened, then relaxed.

"Is it working now?" Rodney asked hopefully. Cautiously, John nodded, then opened his eyes.

"Yeah, I think it is."

He was still terribly pale, but Rodney did think he looked a little better. John's eyes were clearer, more aware, and he no longer seemed to be holding himself quite as carefully. Rodney winced, finally realizing just how much pain John must have been in before.

"Help me up," John commanded, and Rodney got to his feet, a little reluctantly.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait just a bit longer, maybe give it time to kick in a bit more?"

" _Now,_ McKay." The steely, stubborn note of determination was back in John's voice, and despite Rodney's better judgement he found himself pulling the Colonel to his feet. John wobbled slightly as Rodney let go of him, but then he straightened and seemed to steady himself. He walked forward a few paces, and Rodney could tell by the way that he was holding himself that he was still in a considerable amount of pain. Still, it was better than the instant collapse Rodney had feared.

"So...what's the plan?" Rodney asked once John was standing.

"We...get the tac vest from Ronon. Get the remote back. Carson makes sure my blood stays on the inside."

"I mean...what are we doing about Ronon?"

John blinked. It was clear he had not yet gotten that far.

"There was a stunner. An Ancient-design one, up in the lab. I'm not positive it still works, but…."

John was already nodding, the movement a little too quick and jerky for Rodney's liking. "Yeah. That...that sounds like a good idea. We'll stun him and then…."

John trailed off. Rodney could see the problem. John was probably not strong enough to carry Ronon even on his best day. And today was certainly far from that. Once they managed to stun Ronon, Rodney was uncertain what they should do.

"We'll figure it out when we get there," Rodney said definitively. He did not generally favor this sort of plan, but he didn't have much else to offer up.

"Yeah," John said, nodding again. "Carson will fix it. He'll...he'll figure out something. We just need to get the remote back…."

John took a step, and then paused. "Which...did you see which way he went? I don't…."

The reason John had no idea which direction Ronon had taken off in was because he had been completely unconscious when it was happening. Unfortunately, Rodney had been mostly focused on John's limp body instead of on Ronon, so he wasn't completely sure which direction Ronon had gone either. He gestured vaguely in the direction he thought might be right. "I think he went...maybe...that way…."

John shrugged, a motion that seemed to jar every bone in his body and made him go a shade or two paler. Then he took off slowly in the direction Rodney had indicated. It was rather painful to watch his process - his breathing was labored, he was covered in bruises, and he listed slightly to the side with every step. But he was still vertical, and now he was moving. Rodney supposed that was all he could ask for.

"How do you...uh...feel?" Rodney asked as they exited the lab.

"Fine," John growled, in a way that clearly indicated he was not fine.

He figured John would lie, but he still thought it was a question he should ask. It seemed like the thing to do. And in some ways, hearing Sheppard say that he was fine when he clearly wasn't was almost comforting. At any rate, it was expected.

John struggled onwards, and Rodney resisted the urge to reach out to steady him. Still, he walked just a bit closer than usual, just in case.

* * *

The adrenaline had gotten John on his feet, and he was grateful. Still, he was beginning to think that this might be the most uncomfortable substance he'd ever had the misfortune of putting in his body.

They were only a few minutes into the hunt, and already John's hands were shaking badly enough that he was beginning to worry about holding onto the stunner. And with every trembling movement of his fingers, pain traveled all the way up his immobilized arm to his shoulder and collarbone. John willed his hand to be still, but it was starting to feel like he couldn't focus on anything, not even on the pain.

"So what are we looking for, exactly?"

John started, then doubled over as the pain from the sudden movement hit him. Instantly, Rodney's hand was on his back.

"You okay?"

"Uh huh," John mumbled, managing to straighten up through what felt like a sheer effort of will. "Fine."

There was a pause, Rodney staring at him uncertainly. "So...what are we looking for again?"

Right. Rodney had asked him a question. And now Rodney was staring at him like he'd grown an extra head. Surreptitiously, John put his trembling hand behind his back and tried to force himself to focus.

"Ummm, signs that Ronon went through. Footprints, fresh broken branches, that kind of thing."

Rodney nodded, still looking at him uncertainly. "Have you seen any of them?"

John hadn't. He had been so busy trying to keep himself going forward that he hadn't really registered a single thing about their surroundings. He wasn't even sure that they were going the right way. And he didn't think that was going to improve.

"You're gonna have to watch out for them," John blurted out, and now Rodney _really_ looked alarmed.

John racked his brain to come up with some kind of lie to put Rodney at ease, but he was exhausted and in pain and he couldn't keep his fucking thoughts in one place long enough to come up with anything but the truth.

"I can't focus on anything," John admitted. "This stuff...it's keeping me going, but it's like twenty cups of coffee mixed with cocaine, kinda. Feels like even my eyeballs are jittery."

John held up his left hand for emphasis, and watched with mild horror as his fingers twitched spastically. Rodney's eyes widened, and then he gulped and nodded.

"Alright, what do I look for?"

John closed his eyes, took as deep a breath as he could manage with his ribs, and pulled his scattered thoughts together. "Broken branches. Green means it was recent. If it's pointing in the direction we're going, Ronon went that way too."

John realized with some alarm that his chest was heaving rapidly up and down - his breathing had sped up without him even noticing. He swallowed a sudden wave of nausea and forced himself to look around. He thought Rodney would be able to do this if he could just _apply_ himself, but he also knew this was far enough outside of Rodney's wheelhouse that he would likely be reluctant to really try. But John was using all his effort to just stay upright and continue speaking in sentences, and he simply knew that he would not be able to find Ronon if it was all up to him.

"There," he said, nearly gasping in relief as he saw what was clearly a footprint in the somewhat damp, spongy earth at their feet. He pointed at it, and even that slight movement almost sent him toppling. "That's...a footprint. See it? Look for stuff like that."

"There's another one," Rodney said, and John could have cried with relief. "And look, there's a broken branch. Is that what you were talking about?"

"Yes," John whispered. "Keep...keep looking for things like that."

They stumbled forward, Rodney walking slightly behind John, probably ready to catch him if John were to fall.

"What...what are we going to do when we catch him?"

"You still have that stunner, right?"

"But...it's Ronon."

John thought for a moment that Rodney was worried about stunning someone he considered a friend, and he felt bad that that really hadn't crossed his mind. But then he realized that wasn't what Rodney had meant. He was concerned that Ronon would get the jump on them - that they wouldn't _be able_ to stun him.

John waved a hand helplessly - he'd learned better than to try and shrug. Rodney was right, he had _no_ idea how the two of them were supposed to get the drop on Ronon without being killed.

"We'll...figure that out when we find him," John said weakly. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how they would even possibly be able to catch up to Ronon, he had at least a ten minutes head start on them and wasn't injured.

"Why did the Ancients even make something like this!" Rodney said angrily. "What were they thinking?"

"Probably hoping they could get their enemies to turn against each other," John whispered. He could feel each one of his heartbeats in his temple.

"Why wasn't it labeled? If you make something dangerous, it's standard practice to put a warning on it…."

John fought desperately not to choke on the nausea, battling his gag reflex. Rodney's voice faded to a meaningless buzz as John staggered onward.

* * *

Finding the signs Ronon had left was easier than Rodney had expected. In fact, he was turning out to be quite good at it. After a few minutes, John had stopped pointing them out, and Rodney had taken over the tracking completely, looking out for the signs John had taught him.

"There's a branch," Rodney said excitedly, pointing to one of the freshly broken twigs that heralded Ronon's passage. A few seconds too late, John nodded distractedly, then stiffened.

"What is it?" Rodney whispered, pulling out the stunner and crouching low before he realized that there was nothing to crouch _behind_ , and Ronon was a crack shot who could hit him just as easily either way. Sheepishly, he straightened up as John stumbled over to a tree.

John bent over and braced himself against the trunk with his good hand as he retched into the bushes. In between heaves, Rodney could hear him gasping, and his body shuddered against the bark.

Rodney overcame his first instinct, which was to silently avert his gaze to spare both John's feelings and his own squeamishness, and cautiously approached John. He put a hand on John's shoulder, shocked to feel the ever-present tremor that only worsened as John coughed into the bushes. Finally, John finished and slumped against the tree, trembling from head to foot.

"What happened?" Rodney blurted, becoming more alarmed by the second as he took in John's ashen face and his artificially bright eyes, unable to focus on any one point for longer than a few seconds.

"Concussion," John mumbled and pushed himself off the tree. Somehow, he went even paler as he stood.

"Do you want to stop for a break?" Rodney asked, wondering if he should just force John to sit down at this point.

"No," John whispered, taking a sluggish step forward. Rodney followed, this time half a step closer, in case John's clearly limited strength gave out and he collapsed.

It was another ten minutes before he reached that point. Rodney was examining the trees around them, momentarily having taken his attention off John.

"Rodney." John's voice was barely a whisper, so quiet Rodney almost missed it.

"What is it?" Rodney asked, immediately turning back to John.

"Umm...I need…." And John crumpled gracelessly, falling backwards into Rodney.

Rodney didn't manage to stop John's fall, but he did manage to slow it. He caught John's limp body through some combination of his chest, left hand, and right knee, wincing when he accidentally put pressure on John's injured shoulder. John didn't even react to the touch as Rodney lowered him to the ground as carefully as he could.

"John!" Rodney said frantically. "John!"

Rodney was terrified to be out in the open with Ronon still on the loose, and he wouldn't be surprised if Ronon was somewhere in the trees now, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. But John clearly couldn't move, and there wasn't much Rodney could do aside from relieve John of the Ancient stunner and keep one hand on it while he tended to his friend.

John's eyes fluttered weakly, but he didn't seem to be able to open them all the way, and Rodney didn't think he was aware of his surroundings at all.

"John, come on, wake up," Rodney hissed frantically. "You need to…."

Rodney bit his lower lip slightly, took a deep breath, and slapped John across the face. It was a pretty gentle slap, little more than a tap, but Rodney still felt bad. It did do the job, although not as dramatically as Rodney had expected or hoped. John blinked once, twice, and then finally managed to open his eyes. He focused on a spot somewhat adjacent to Rodney, and Rodney winced. It was clear there was something wrong with his vision.

"Wh't happened?" he asked.

"You fainted," Rodney informed him.

John sighed deeply, seemingly as annoyed at his body for betraying him as he was at the situation as a whole. Then his body bucked, and Rodney had to turn him quickly on his side so he could vomit again.

"Could you stop doing that?" Rodney said, meaning it to be a joke.

"S'rry," John mumbled.

"Can you...stand?" Rodney asked, not feeling very optimistic. In fact, Rodney was starting to be not very optimistic about the situation as a whole. Their best plan involved stunning one of their friends, who also happened to be one of the two best fighters Rodney had ever seen, and then...what? Hope Carson could fix Ronon? Hoping Ronon would somehow just get fixed on his own? And all the while, John was...Rodney didn't think John was dying, but Rodney was _completely out of his depth,_ and he was starting to not be very sure of anything at all.

John got his good hand under himself and managed to lever himself into a sitting position, but clearly could not get any farther.

"Oh god, you can't even sit up, can you?" Rodney asked, feeling the panic rise into his throat like a physical thing. He moved behind John to support him just as John's arm gave out and he sagged backwards into Rodney.

John didn't answer for a few seconds, and Rodney could hear him panting weakly as he tried to gather enough strength to respond.

"You...you need to give me more of that stuff."

John's voice was barely more than a whisper, carried on a weak exhalation of breath. For a moment, Rodney wasn't sure that he'd heard him correctly.

" _What?_ No. Absolutely not," Rodney told him. "We have no idea what that would do to you."

John fell silent, and for a brief moment Rodney hoped that he'd given up on this insanity. The first dose had been bad enough. John hadn't even been able to concentrate long enough to look around the woods, and now he wanted another one?

"What if your heart stops?" Rodney asked sharply, resisting the urge to shake some sense into John. At this point, he was worried it might kill him. "What if it explodes or something? What if this thing is toxic in high doses, and we don't know?"

"What if...Ronon finds us when we aren't ready?" John countered, somehow managing to lever himself to a sitting position. Rodney frowned, trying to think of an answer to that.

"McKay…the drug," John said, painfully pushing himself a few feet and collapsing heavily against a tree. "Or...we just wait here for Ronon."

Neither option sounded like a good one to Rodney. He hesitated, gauging John's commitment to what was seeming like an increasingly terrible plan. John managed to open his eyes and glared in a direction that was almost at Rodney.

"Do it now, McKay. Or I'll do it myself."

That was an empty threat, and Rodney knew it. He was the one who had the syringes, and John certainly wasn't in any state to take those away from him. Still, John was clearly serious, and Rodney couldn't think of anything else to do.

"This is a terrible idea, and I don't like it," Rodney announced, pulling another syringe from his pocket.

"Noted," John said drily, closing his eyes again. "Do it."

* * *

The effect of the drug was faster this time than it had been at first. No sooner had Rodney injected the contents of the syringe into John's veins when the Colonel was sitting up, looking around and gasping for air as if he was just waking from a nightmare. Fine tremors still ran through his limbs.

At first, Rodney thought this must be a good thing. The drug was working better this time, more effectively. John would be stronger. He'd be able to stand, focus, track down Ronon, fight him. But then, he realized it was probably the opposite. The drug had already started to build up in John's system, and while the good effects would probably be magnified, the bad effects would be too. Rodney was pretty sure John would not be able to handle another dose.

"How do you feel?" Rodney asked nervously.

John swallowed convulsively, eyes bouncing anxiously between Rodney, the ground, the trees. "Like a...blender," he said. His teeth were chattering now. "But it...hurts still. Worse than before, I think. Hard to tell."

That...did not seem good. But Rodney did not have time to dwell on it. All John needed was for Rodney to find Ronon as fast as possible, so they could use the jumper to get back to the Stargate and John could take a nice long trip to the infirmary.

"Oh my god," John whispered.

"What?" Rodney asked.

John let out a shaky breath, eyes still roving wildly. "Ronon went that way." John pointed off into the trees.

Rodney raised his eyebrows. Last he'd checked, John had been too high to track Ronon. Apparently, that was no longer the case. John was now staring into the trees to their left with such intensity that Rodney half-expected to see Ronon crouching there.

"Alright," Rodney said. "We'll just go that way then."

"No," John whispered. Rodney realized his eyes were glassy, his face consumed with a strange frenetic energy. "He's trying to _trick us._ He went that way and then he _doubled back."_

Rodney had no idea how John might have figured out a thing like this, but he had to admit, doubling back to throw them off the trail definitely did sound like something Ronon would do.

"You're sure?" Rodney asked. If John was right this might actually be...good news. If they knew where Ronon was headed, they could cut him off.

"We have to...go that way," John said, starting to push himself to his feet. The movement looked excruciatingly painful, and Rodney rushed to grab him and help take some of his weight. He could feel John's rapid breaths through his t-shirt. Rodney wanted to ask if he was alright again, but the answer to that was clear. He wasn't, and he wouldn't be until they managed to get back to Atlantis. John moved forward again, and this time Rodney stayed by his side, half supporting the Colonel's trembling frame. Every shuddering breath seemed to bring John new pain, but all Rodney could do was follow him through the forest and hope they were getting closer to their goal.


	3. Chapter 3

John could feel his heartbeat in his fingers. It pulsed throughout his body, jarring his bones, far too fast. Out of control. His breathing, too, was rapid and shallow, but it hurt too badly for John to do anything else so he let it quicken.

He only had to keep it together long enough to find Ronon. Or….

"We need a trap," John blurted out, whipping his head toward Rodney and instantly regretting it as blackness danced across his vision.

"Sheppard, whoa," Rodney said sharply, and John blinked the darkness back and found that he'd toppled sideways, where he'd been caught by the scientist.

"Thanks," John mumbled, then turned his attention back to the plan his exhausted, concussed, stimulant-soaked brain had finally managed to conjure.

"A trap," he repeated, pushing himself off of Rodney and staggering over to a tree. He leaned against the trunk, resting his head on the bark. It felt oddly soothing, cool and dry against his skin. Was he overheating? Was that the drug, his injuries, or just his imagination? It was hard to tell anymore.

"What trap?" Rodney asked, voice beginning to creep back up the panic levels. "John, you still haven't told me what trap you're talking about."

"Like the ones...Ronon set," John whispered, leaning his head further into the tree before he remembered what he was doing and where he was. With a snap, he jarred himself upright. "The...rope ones."

Rodney crossed his arms, already looking annoyed. "Like the one that I got stuck in that once?"

John nodded weakly, eyes bouncing rapidly across the treeline for a suitable place. That was made difficult by the fact that he could barely even think straight, much less pick out the perfect place to set a trap for Ronon.

Rodney seemed to take pity on him, and even though John couldn't imagine he knew any more about setting traps than he had about tracking an hour ago, he gently guided John towards a tree that seemed more or less suitable.

"Do you-" John's voice gave out with a painful crack, he had to swallow hard to work some moisture back into his dry throat. "Do you have rope?"

"I still have my pack," Rodney said, swinging it off his shoulder. He knelt down and started shuffling through it, leaving John propped against the tree. John focused on just staying upright until Rodney produced a length of rope.

John watched with something resembling awe as Rodney selected a sturdy root, secured the end of the rope to it, and began deftly adding knots.

"Do you...know how to make one of these?" John whispered.

"It's simple mechanics, Sheppard, I think I can figure it out." If anyone else had said it, it would have sounded sarcastic at best, but with Rodney, it was clear he was just stating a fact. John could almost see the gears in his head turning as he thought back to the trap he had been caught in before and tried to figure out what combination of angles and forces had led to that result.

He kept up a litany of musings and dry comments as he worked, and John was glad he knew Rodney well enough to know he wasn't looking for any sort of response. He just worked better when he was talking to himself.

"Not sure how to get high enough, I'm not about to _climb a tree,_ maybe if I go far enough in the other direction, or hmm, I could try tying it to something and throwing it, can't ask Sheppard, I've gotta…."

"Mckay," Sheppard hissed. He had been letting himself drift, just focusing on not passing out and not thinking too hard about the pain, when he had _heard something._ That small sound, whether it was a rock falling or a branch snapping or a leaf crunching, had brought everything else into focus. " _Shut up._ "

Rodney, to his credit, immediately when silent. For about five seconds.

"Did you hear something? Oh god, this is…."

John was about to ask Rodney to be quiet again, but as it turned out it didn't matter. Because it was then that Ronon exploded out of the trees to their right, ran towards them, and knocked John to the ground.

John was slammed to the side with the impact, falling heavily as something in his knee twisted in a way it clearly shouldn't. But the pain in his knee was forgotten as he made contact with the ground and Ronon's full weight landed on top of him.

Whatever Ronon had done to his ribs before, that was nothing compared with this. All of the breath rushed out of John as he felt something inside his chest snap, and any defense he might have planned to mount became impossible.

John's vision greyed out, and Ronon's hands locked around his throat as he shifted, trapping John underneath his weight.

"McKay," John whispered with the last of his breath, hoping Rodney would get the message and would be able to react in time. His vision went blurry, then black, and John fell into the darkness.

* * *

It was like deja vu. Rodney standing frozen as Ronon came out of nowhere, as he tackled John to the ground, as John crumpled instantly. This time, Rodney was sure that Ronon would kill him.

 _No._ Rodney couldn't let that happen, he wasn't going to stand idly by while one of his closest friends choked the life out of his _best_ friend.

"Hey," Rodney shouted, voice cracking in the middle of the word, making him almost glad that John wasn't awake to hear it. He pulled out the Ancient stunner as Ronon relaxed his grip on John's throat and turned towards him, eyes glinting dangerously.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger, hoping desperately that he was right about what the weapon was for, and that it even still worked. If this went wrong, then John was dead, and so was Rodney.

After a few seconds passed, and Rodney was still breathing, he cracked an eyelid open to discover Ronon lying prone, sprawled across John. Neither of them were moving. As far as Rodney could tell, John didn't even seem to be breathing.

"No, no, no, _no,_ " Rodney muttered, dropping the stunner and running to his friends. Summoning all of his strength, he managed to roll Ronon off John's body, although it took far longer than he would have liked.

"Sheppard?" Rodney asked, feeling his stomach twist in anticipation as he bent over John. "Come on, Sheppard, stay with me…."

As if in response, John's chest rose, and Rodney's hands began to shake with delayed shock.

"Oh thank god," he whispered, dropping his head between his knees and taking in a few shuddering breaths. Beside him, John continued to breathe. Rodney let a few minutes pass, then turned his attention towards getting John back to Atlantis.

"Sheppard?" Rodney asked again, this time putting a hand gingerly on John's uninjured shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

John's eyes fluttered open, and Rodney let out a shaky breath. "You're alright," Rodney breathed.

But then, John's eyes slid away from Rodney. He was awake, sort of, but it was clear he had been... _damaged_ by the fight. Rodney didn't think he knew where he was, wasn't sure he had even registered that Rodney was there.

"Sheppard?" Rodney asked cautiously. "Can you hear me?"

John made a mumbling sound. Possibly affirmation. Possibly something else.

There was no way John was going to be able to help. He couldn't walk, he couldn't stand, he couldn't even think of ideas or anything like that.

Rodney was on his own.

Rodney knew he wouldn't be able to drag both John and Ronon back to the jumper. In fact, he probably wouldn't even be able to drag John back to the jumper. In a worst case scenario, he supposed he could wait a few more hours until they'd passed their check-in time, and Elizabeth would send someone after them. Until then he could just...watch over John. Maybe wrap his shoulder a bit better. He could keep stunning Ronon every time he started to wake up, until Carson could get his hands on him and fix whatever was wrong.

No. That wasn't a good plan. Rodney wasn't sure how many stuns a human body could take. At least Ronon was big, so it would affect him less than it affected, say, John. But he still didn't want to keep him under for hours at a time. He could end up with...brain damage, or something. Not that you would _really_ be able to tell, it was _Ronon_ after all, but still….

Rodney didn't particularly want to get close to Ronon, but he figured he should tie him up.

Rodney heaved Ronon into a sitting position, working muscles in his shoulders and back that he didn't even know that he had. He used the rope that he had been going to use for the trap to secure Ronon's hands behind him, tying him tightly to a thick tree. The whole time, he kept up a steady stream of meaningless chatter. He didn't think John could really hear him. He still hadn't even managed to form a word. But on the off chance John was more awake than he seemed, Rodney figured he would like to know what was going on.

Rodney had no sooner finished securing Ronon to the tree when the huge man started to stir. Rodney lurched backwards with a quick intake of breath.

The Satedan's eyes slid open and instantly locked on Rodney.

"Stay...stay back," Rodney said, picking up and brandishing the stunner. It didn't matter that Ronon was tied up.

Ronon stirred slightly, looking confused. "What...what happened?"

Rodney paused, lowering the stunner slightly. Was it possible that whatever toxin Ronon had inhaled had naturally worked its way out of his system? It seemed almost too good to be true.

"Ronon?" Rodney asked cautiously, taking a half-step forward. "Are you... _you_?"

Ronon frowned, clearly still struggling to orient himself. Then, John moaned softly from the ground, and Ronon's eyes darted in the Colonel's direction.

" _No_ ," he whispered, staring at John's still form with frozen horror. Slowly, Ronon turned back to Rodney, and any doubts Rodney might have had about whether or not this was Ronon were erased by the pain in his eyes.

"I...I did that," Ronon said softly, glancing back towards John. "Is he...?"

"He'll be alright," Rodney answered. "Umm, I think. We need to get him back to Atlantis, but you had the jumper remote and I can't carry him by myself and-"

"Untie me," Ronon said, staring towards John. "I can carry him."

Rodney nodded and began working on the knots, still somewhat wary but mainly just relieved not to be left alone. As soon as the rope fell to the base of the tree Ronon rose and hurried to John, followed by Rodney.

John looked bad. Rodney had thought he was as pale as a human being could get without being dead, and that was _before_ Ronon's second attack. Now, his face was a sickly greyish white, save for the hollows around his eyes, which stood out in a bruised-looking purple. His breath was shallow, so faint that for a moment, Rodney was worried that he wasn't breathing at all. His heartbeat was still rapid, his pulse jumping in his neck in an unnerving contrast to the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"Sheppard?" Ronon's voice was soft, softer than Rodney would have expected. Gingerly, he reached out and laid a cautious hand on John's shoulder, looking as though he were doing something wrong. Rodney recognized the look in Ronon's eyes, it was the smoldering anger he usually associated with someone getting punched. Still, Ronon's voice stayed gentle even as the anger in his eyes mounted.

John's eyelids flickered open, much to Rodney's surprise. Rodney moved forward as well, thinking that if John woke up and saw Ronon crouching over him, he might panic, and none of them needed that.

"Hey, Sheppard," Rodney said breathlessly, trying to make his voice sound as normal as humanly possible. "Ronon is...uhh, Ronon again. We're going to get you back to Atlantis. Okay?"

John smiled, slightly, or at least twitched his lips. "Nice t'have you back...big guy."

Ronon swallowed convulsively, but other than that, he didn't react. Rodney saw him very gently squeeze John's shoulder, then clear his throat.

"Nice to be back. Ready to get outta here?"

John smiled again and let his eyes slip closed. Rodney took that as a yes.

"You said you could carry him?" he asked Ronon.

"I c'n walk," John whispered, without opening his eyes or making any sort of movement to support his statement.

"No, you can't," Rodney told him bluntly. He was in no mood to worry about the stubborn Colonel's pride, not when John looked so small and fragile. "Ronon?"

Ronon, to his credit, didn't hesitate at all. He knelt next to John and placed one hand beneath his shoulders, avoiding his injured side as best as possible, and eased John into a sitting position. John let out a single, weak, gasp, but other than that he didn't react to the pain. Ronon slid his other hand beneath John's knee, eliciting another whimper of pain, and stood.

John was silent, but Rodney watched with a lump in his throat as his body curled around itself, an automatic instinct to keep from further harm. John's breathing got faster, and he turned his head into Ronon's shoulder as his hands tightened convulsively.

"Be still," Ronon said. Somehow, Ronon's voice seemed to penetrate John's fog of pain. He relaxed slightly, hands going limp.

The fact that he had not given even a token protest about the fact that he was now in Ronon's arms was frightening. Rodney wasn't even sure whether John was really awake or asleep now - his eyes were open, but glassy and unfocused. Rodney wasn't sure how much time they had to get John back to Atlantis, but he knew it wasn't a lot.

Ronon was silent as they started back towards the Jumper, which Rodney was grateful for. Part of Rodney knew that if he was the one who had briefly gone insane and accidentally hurt John, he would not be able to be silent, simply sitting with his own thoughts. He would have needed reassurance, distraction, even anger. But Ronon's tendency to deal with his internal life _internally_ was something Rodney was nothing but grateful for now. He was exhausted, confused, and far too worried about John to keep up a conversation.

He just trailed along next to Ronon and kept an eye on John's breathing, making sure it didn't stop.

* * *

John had been on the ground, and now he was being carried. Some small part of him recognized that this was good. It meant he was being returned to the Jumper. At least it probably meant that. And that was important, because he knew he needed help. Something seemed broken deep inside, and he didn't think he could fix it on his own.

Most of him was not particularly happy with his current situation. Being carried _hurt._ His chest was rather compressed, which made breathing even more of a challenge than it had been before. Each footstep made his head throb horribly. His ribs, shoulder, collarbone, and now knee ached constantly, made worse with the constant vibrations traveling through his body like shockwaves.

And all that aside, even through the hazy muddle that his thoughts had become, John was keenly aware that he didn't _like_ being carried. Every part of his mind that wasn't occupied with the intense, overwhelming pain was telling him to struggle, to protest, to insist that he walk to the jumper under his own steam.

But the pain was winning. John could barely form a coherent thought. He couldn't even summon the energy to speak. Walking was definitely out of the question. Resigned, John closed his eyes and floated dizzily on the sea of pain.

"Almost there. Alright, Sheppard? We're going to get you help."

Rodney. It took John a moment to process what he was saying, to even realize for sure that Rodney was speaking to him.. But he recognized the sound of Rodney's voice, and he thought whatever Rodney had said was meant to be encouraging.

John couldn't bring himself to respond. He tried, he really did, but his brain seemed so far away from his mouth, and there were so many steps in between that suddenly seemed like an impossibility. Giving up, John allowed himself to be carried further, Rodney's nonsensical babble washing around him, eddying together with the pain and lulling him into a semi-conscious state where John was happy to stay.

John didn't surface again until he was jarred to a sudden stop, startling a whimper out of him.

"Okay, here it is." Rodney again. There was a grunt, presumably from Ronon. John forced his eyes open and took in the blurry outline of his jumper.

"Only a bit longer, Sheppard," Rodney said, appearing in his field of vision and looking very worried indeed. "I...uhh...promise I won't crash."

With a very unconvincing smile that would have alarmed John if he had been capable of feeling anything beyond the pain, Rodney ducked into the interior of the jumper.

John's eyes slipped shut again, and this time he wasn't able to get them open. That should worry him, he thought dimly,

He felt himself being carried forward, into the jumper. Vaguely expecting to be put down, John braced himself as best he could for the impact with the hard benches that lined the walls of the jumper. Instead, he felt Ronon sit down and lower himself back against the wall of the jumper. John remained curled in Ronon's arms.

It wasn't exactly comfortable. Ronon was holding onto him just a little too tight, and enough of John was injured that it was impossible to keep pressure off of all of the painful spots at once. But it was far, far preferable to being set on the cold, hard floor. He allowed himself to relax slightly.

"Alright, ladies and gentleman," Rodney said, voice high and nervous. "Fasten your seatbelts and prepare for takeoff."

John allowed his eyes to slit open. Rodney was seated at the controls, looking tense and uncomfortable. He had flown the jumper several times, and a few of them had even been without John there, or at least with John there but similarly incpacitated. But there had always been someone like Teyla next to him, who knew something about the jumper's operation even if she lacked the gene she would need to fly it. Now, Rodney was completely on his own.

John trusted him. It was a short flight, and they would be fine. He allowed his eyes to slide closed.

* * *

Luckily, this planet had a stargate. If they had to fly the whole distance back to Atlantis, probably several hours at least by Rodney's calculations, they would really be in trouble. Even as it was, Rodney wasn't sure about this. Everything else aside, John was so limp and damaged Rodney wasn't sure his heart could take it.

The unlucky part was that the Stargate was in orbit. There was a docking mechanism that made it easy to dial Atlantis, and the flight was unlikely to be more than ten minutes, so nothing about this situation posed a logistical problem. It was much more of an emotional one. Rodney wasn't good at flying under this much pressure.

John hadn't made any move to somehow steal back the jumper controls from Rodney, and Rodney supposed that had to be a good sign. Rodney liked to think that if he had been really worried, he would have shown some sign of distress. Since he hadn't, that must mean he thought Rodney was capable enough to get the job done.

Rodney took a deep breath in and out. He consoled himself with the fact that even if it was a bumpy ride, Ronon would keep John from shifting around too much.

Gingerly, Rodney reached out and touched the controls. The jumper immediately hummed to life, and Rodney concentrated as hard as he possibly could and, very slowly, brought the jumper off the ground.

He cast a glance backwards before lifting them higher, reassuring himself that John was still breathing, that he hadn't shifted during Rodney's takeoff, or worse, slid off the bench completely.

Contrary to Rodney's expectations, John wasn't lying on the bench after all, but instead still nestled in Ronon's arms. As Rodney watched, Ronon pulled John a little closer, and the Colonel shifted slightly.

"Umm, hold on," Rodney said, and Ronon nodded curtly. He hadn't spoken for the entire walk back, and Rodney assumed that was probably all the answer he was going to get.

All out of ways to delay the inevitable flight, Rodney pulled the jumper up and pointed it towards the stargate.

The flight back was short, thankfully. Rodney cringed through every bump and swerve the jumper made, sure he must be hurting the Colonel, but neither Ronon nor John made a sound. Rodney was going to take that as a good sign. Finally, Rodney was aiming the jumper through the stargate, and they were landing in the gate room.

As soon as the hatch lowered, Ronon was out of the jumper and running towards the infirmary. By the time Rodney followed, Ronon was already out of sight.

"What happened?" Weir asked, halfway down the stairs, staring after Ronon.

"Sheppard," Rodney said briefly. "He's hurt, _again_ , there was this drug, and…."

Rodney trailed off, glancing longingly towards the infirmary. He wanted to be there, making sure that John was okay, not struggling to explain their harrowing experience in the Ancient lab.

Elizabeth, as always, seemed to read his mind.

"Let's go," she said, nodding towards the infirmary. "You can brief me later."

Rodney breathed a sigh of relief and headed after Ronon, leaving the jumper in the middle of the gate room. He'd gotten it back to Atlantis, and now it was someone else's problem. Rodney had more important things to worry about.

By the time they reached the infirmary it was a hive of activity, centered around John. He looked completely unconscious now, curled loosely on a hospital bed while Carson, accompanied by various nurses, swarmed around him. Ronon stood in a corner some ways away, watching intently.

"What happened to him?" Carson asked, addressing Ronon. "What do you know of his injuries?"

Ronon stiffened, looking trapped. "He's been...unconscious for almost ten minutes now…."

Carson had taken this information and was now peeling John's eyes open and shining a penlight in them, checking the reactions of his pupils. "Aye, lad, and what else?" Carson asked, not taking his eyes off John.

Ronon sent a panicked glance at Rodney, of all people, and Rodney stepped forward. "His finger's broken, I, uh, popped his shoulder back in too, but there's still something wrong with it, maybe his collarbone? He may have a few broken ribs, his knee is...hurt. And the concussion of course."

"Has he been vomiting?" Carson asked, now probing the back of John's skull.

"Yes, but not for a while."

"How long ago did this happen?" Carson burst out.

Rodney winced. "Uh, a few hours, but we couldn't...get back right away. And it might not all have been the concussion, I did also have to inject him with...something. It might have been adrenaline. It also might have been, um...cocaine."

For the first time, Carson turned around to glare at Rodney. The expression of horror on his face made Rodney's insides shrivel up. "Please do not inject strange substances into my patients!"

"I didn't want to!" Rodney protested. "I didn't have a choice! He couldn't walk, and we had to-"

Rodney was cut off by a dull crack. Everyone whipped around in time to see Ronon pulling his fist back from the wall, massaging his knuckles. He had left behind a dent. Everyone in the infirmary had turned to stare at him, including Carson.

"Get him out of here!" Carson roared. "I need to concentrate on the Colonel."

"No!" Rodney and Ronon yelled at once.

"He needs to be checked out too!" Rodney burst out. "He was also...drugged…."

This did get Carson's attention, although his eyes didn't leave John, who he was currently holding still so he could set up an IV on the inside of his arm.

"What was he drugged with?" Carson asked.

"Something that...made him...scary," Rodney explained lamely, and this, finally, seemed to get through to Carson. His shoulders softened.

"We'll have someone check him out and make sure there are no lasting effects."

" _I'm_ fine," Ronon growled, casting an upset glance towards John, then looking back to Rodney.

"If you let them look at you, you can stay," Rodney pointed out, as quietly as he could. The fight went out of Ronon's stance and he nodded slightly, allowing himself to be led away by another doctor. Rodney lingered, doing his best to avoid staring at John's limp form, hoping the news he was waiting for was good.

* * *

As soon as John tried to move, he regretted it. For a moment, he wondered if he'd been hit by a truck. Then, he remembered that he'd actually been hit by Ronon, so he hadn't been that far off with the truck guess.

Carefully, John opened his eyes. The pounding headache he remembered from earlier was reduced to a gentle pulse behind his eyes, and the room was dimly lit.

John did feel a bit better, he thought. His head felt a little heavy, his limbs slightly numb, telltale signs of drugs fogging his system. The pain lurked at bay, in the periphery of his mind, waiting until he moved.

"Sheppard? Are you awake?" Rodney's face appeared in his field of vision, and John groaned and managed to push himself ever so slightly more upright.

"Stop moving," Rodney snapped, shoving a few pillows behind John's head and helping him scoot up against them. "Beckett's right, you're the worst patient imaginable."

"At least I don't ask if I'm dying every five seconds," John muttered, glaring at Rodney. The scientist made a small, disapproving sound, and stepped back slightly to reveal Ronon, sitting awkwardly on a chair in the corner.

"Hey, Sheppard," Ronon said, and John frowned at the hesitant note in his voice.

Rodney must have heard it too, because he froze mid-complaint and cleared his throat. He raised one finger stiffly, as though he'd just remembered something, and looked towards Ronon. "I have...work. In my lab. Yes. I'll stop by later, Sheppard. Glad to see you're feeling a bit better. Try not to do anything too stupid while I'm gone, will you?"

"Real subtle, McKay," John hissed as Rodney swept past him and left the infirmary with one last meaningful nod in Ronon's direction.

Ronon shifted uncomfortably on the chair and rose, fidgeting with a bandage across his knuckles. John's eyes tracked from the bandage to a fresh dent in the wall near Ronon's seat and frowned again.

"Sheppard, look…I'm…."

"Don't be," John said swiftly, anticipating what Ronon was about to say, sure that both he and Ronon would rather this go unsaid and unaddressed.

"But-"

"Happens to the best of us." John shrugged, then immediately wished he hadn't. He struggled to keep the pain off his face, not wanting to give Ronon any more reason to punch walls. "Seriously, don't worry about it, buddy."

Ronon scowled, looking somewhat unconvinced.

"I mean, I'm fine if we just...never mention it again? Move on with our lives," John suggested. "Sound good?"

The corner of Ronon's mouth twitched into a smile, and he nodded.

"Great," John said with a sigh. "Now go tell McKay that he can stop hiding behind the door, huh?"

Ronon looked somewhat alarmed, and cautiously opened the infirmary door to reveal Rodney. John resisted the urge to laugh, since that felt like it might kill him.

"I wasn't hiding," Rodney said immediately, looking defensively up at Ronon. "I forgot something."

"Shut up, Rodney," John responded, without any heat in his voice. Rodney snorted slightly, sinking into a chair next to John's bed.

"By the way, did Ronon tell you how I flew the jumper?"


End file.
